Grand Slam Read online

  He sat down at the kitchen table to eat leftover lasagna, with a can of orange soda and his iPhone. He googled Lakeland, and an entirely unexpected new world opened up. It was even better than Gertzy had made it sound. Lakeland wasn’t like a sports camp; it looked like a sports country.

  They coached future pros in everything from baseball and football to tennis, golf, and lacrosse. They had incredible training facilities and a five-thousand-seat park for football tournaments and track-and-field meets. They were so big that they had a world-class hotel on the grounds for parents, scouts, and other visitors.

  You could go to a camp for five weeks, or you could live there and go to school from sixth grade until you graduated from their high school. It was all so incredible.

  Jalen surfed to a Wikipedia page that listed Lakeland Academy high school graduates. The pro training alumni page was full of MLB MVPs: Gary Sheffield, Joe Mauer, Joey Votto, Andrew McCutchen.…

  The name Andrew McCutchen stopped him.

  Jalen was too young to have seen him in his MVP-level years with the Pirates, but McCutchen had been a Yankee for half a season before getting a big free-agent contract with the Phillies. Cutch had been a real fireplug, a leadoff hitter with a great batting eye. His incredible plate discipline and situational hitting skill made him a difference maker for the offense.

  He was also one of the very few African American stars in MLB, a player universally liked for his effort and energy and leadership. Cutch was somebody people rooted for, and Jalen wanted to be like him.

  Another look at Lakeland’s website informed him that tuition for training and high school was over $72,000 a year. Jalen’s balloon burst. So much money! And even if the Silver Liner franchise business took off and they were rolling in cash, there was no way his dad would want Jalen to live far away. And Jalen didn’t want that either. It wouldn’t be fair, anyway. It would make his father unhappy, just when the Silver Liner was becoming a success.

  But Lakeland was also the best of the best. If Jalen could dominate this tournament, maybe he’d have a shot at one of their scholarships.

  Which was more important, he asked himself: being true and loyal and living with Dad… or taking his big chance to follow his MLB dream?

  It made him sick inside to realize that both were equally important.

  28

  BECAUSE THEIR OLD SET WAS so bad, Jalen wasn’t in the habit of watching much TV. Trying to ease his mind, he flopped between playing Clash and thinking about baseball until he remembered the speed hitter Coach Allen had given him. He went outside and began to swing. Jalen could easily imagine a stadium packed with fans. He did as his coach told him and conjured up a game on the line in need of a grand slam.

  Over and over he swung. At first he muffed it. He slowed down and began to relax. Soon he filled the empty house with solid thwacking—the sound of success. He worked up another sweat before jumping into the shower.

  Lying on his bed, he took up his phone to study the text his mom had sent. In his mind he planned to message Cat about Lakeland, but he was suddenly exhausted. The hand with the phone wilted down onto the mattress, and despite all the unanswered questions in his mind, he was pulled down into a deeply troubled sleep.

  * * *

  Sunshine blinked through the leaves and through the window, waking Jalen up early. Next door, his father was still snoring. Jalen stood at his dad’s bedroom door, watching the rise and fall of his father’s chest. He’d fallen asleep in his short-sleeved black scrubs, with his arms folded across his chest. He was still wearing his glasses.

  Drawing closer, Jalen wanted to shake his father awake and tell him she was here. Get it over with. He was reaching out to touch his arm when his dad let out a snort. Without opening his eyes, he rolled over, settled on his side, and continued to snore. He must have come in extra late and exhausted.

  Jalen tiptoed to the bathroom. When he’d finished, he peeked in again, but his dad was still sleeping soundly. Jalen decided to leave him alone. He suspected Cat would give him grief, but that was better than telling his dad that his mom and her “partner” were in town. He was sure his dad would be hurt by that—and by the fact that Jalen had secretly hired a detective to find her.

  On the kitchen table, a white paper bag was filled with leftovers from the restaurant: crusty bread, butter, and one of his favorites, three-cheese bellflower pasta, was in the fridge.

  His dad thought using a microwave to reheat food was uncivilized, but Jalen used it anyway. It whirred for a few minutes, then beeped. The pasta was steaming. While Jalen ate carefully to avoid burning his mouth, he checked for the video. The viewers had almost stopped coming.

  Jalen shook his head. Something he thought was going to be a real nightmare was less threatening every time he looked, and something he thought would be a dream come true had given him nightmares.

  His dad was still sleeping when he let himself out the door and walked to the Silver Liner. Greta was already inside, scrubbing table seven with a sponge.

  “Late night last night?” Jalen said to make conversation.

  “Why your father hired these so-called cleaners I’ll never know,” she replied, working up a lather with the sponge.

  “Didn’t he do it to help you?”

  “Come here. Look at this.” She pointed a purple-painted pinky nail at a dried spaghetti string. “You call this clean?”

  “Yeah, but won’t that get covered by the tablecloth?”

  “And you think that’s good enough?” Greta put her hand on her hip. “Hiding the dirt isn’t the same as clean, Ace.”

  Jalen wanted to shortcut the lecture. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  Luckily, his phone rang. “Oh, it’s JY. I gotta take this.”

  He put the phone to his ear and marched outside.

  Even Greta knew that when JY called, you answered.

  29

  JALEN MUTTERED INTO THE PHONE, “Saved by the bell.”

  “Saved from what?” asked the Yankees star.

  Jalen waited until he was out the door. “Well, first, Greta’s cleanliness speech. But—great news—the video isn’t getting views!”

  JY had news of his own. “Reuben Hall’s wife went into labor early this morning, so I’m playing in the first game of the doubleheader today. I’m hoping you can give me a hand after all. The game’s at one. I already spoke to Tory, and you’re all set with a ride. I got seats in the owner’s box, so you’ll be sitting where you normally do.”

  Jalen had been in the front row right by the Yankees dugout before. The view of the pitcher was perfect.

  “That’s great news, right?” Jalen asked. “You thought being a Yankee was over.”

  JY took a moment before he spoke, and Jalen could hear the two Rottweilers barking somewhere in the distant background. “This isn’t a vote of confidence. It’s just a guy’s wife having a baby.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, Chan is starting, so I have to wonder if that has something to do with it too.” JY sounded like he was talking to himself.

  “Wait! You didn’t get to hear about my dad! The Yankees want a Silver Liner Diner in the mezzanine.”

  “Your diner on the mezzanine? That’s a game changer!” JY’s voice took on new determination. “They can’t trade me now. And today I’ll show them why they don’t want to!”

  Jalen’s mind immediately flooded with numbers, statistics he’d seen on Jake Chan’s pitching. They were right there, clear as a colossal billboard. “Chan has a terrific slider-and-changeup combo. They’re his best swing-and-miss pitches, set up by an average fastball.”

  “They’re not so great if you know they’re coming and can pass on them. And the good news is,” JY said, “that if Foxx doesn’t keep his word and re-sign me, I’ll have a shot at getting picked up by another team. The Red Sox game alone showed everyone I’ve still got some mojo. If I do well today, Tory says it’ll help even more.”

  “Anyway, who’s T
ory?” Jalen scuffed some grit beneath his shoes. He was miffed that JY hadn’t mentioned him when he talked about mojo.

  “You know. Victoria. Hello. Cat’s mom?”

  “You call her Tory?”

  “Is that okay with you?” JY’s voice was harsh.

  Jalen wanted to say that he knew one person who would mind, and that was Cat, but he kicked a rock and said, “Sure. Fine. Just asking.”

  “Good. She and Cat will pick you up at eleven thirty.”

  Jalen hesitated. “Can I bring Gertzy?”

  “Who’s Gertzy?”

  “My friend. He’s our ace pitcher.”

  “Sure. Why not?” JY said. “There’s four tickets, so you can bring a friend.” He suddenly refocused on the news. “The Silver Liner at the stadium. People will go nuts. Your dad will get rich.” He laughed. “Who would have guessed that calamari was so lucky!”

  “Thanks to you,” Jalen said. “Hey, maybe you could do another tweet tonight, after the game?”

  “Sure.” JY said. “Let’s make sure I’ve got something to brag about first, though, right?”

  “I haven’t failed you yet, have I?” Jalen flexed his arm, admiring the shadow his bicep made on the parking lot.

  “No. You have not.”

  Jalen’s heart swelled with pride, but after they’d hung up their phones, his mind swirled inside a tornado of thoughts and feelings about his mom, his dad, Cat, JY, and now Daniel. What was he doing? Thinking of Gertzy before Daniel? Not telling his father?

  Jalen knew that he’d have to talk to Daniel before he invited Gertzy to the game. He dreaded making the call but knew he had to. He would tell Daniel that he’d invite Gertzy only if it was okay with him.

  He squinted from the glare of the sun as he dialed Daniel’s number.

  30

  “S’UP?” DANIEL SOUNDED SLEEPY.

  “Hey, amigo, you’re not gonna believe this.”

  Daniel yawned. “Try me.”

  “JY is playing in the early game of the doubleheader today,” Jalen said. “He wants my help.”

  “Awesome, amigo. We in the owner’s seats again?” Daniel sounded awake now, and his excitement made Jalen’s stomach clench and roll.

  “Uh, no. Close by, though,” Jalen said.

  “Who’s on the mou—Oh, hot sauce!”

  “What’s wrong?” Jalen asked. “Why hot sauce?”

  “Because my dad is taking my mom to the city, and I’m watching my sister all afternoon.”

  “Aw, that’s too bad.”

  The silence stretched out between them. With a secret sigh of relief, Jalen imagined the grin on Gertzy’s face when they sat down in those prime seats and ordered food for free off a menu card, real VIP treatment.

  Then Daniel said, “Wait a minute. I know. I’ll ask my mom if my sister can go with them! I’ll call you back.”

  Before Jalen could speak, he was disconnected.

  He looked at his phone before stuffing it in his pocket and hustling back inside the restaurant. He restocked the San Marzano tomatoes his dad used to make his special sauces. Then he filled different shakers with salt, black pepper, and red pepper and put them on the counter and tables in the dining area.

  When he finished up, he said, “Greta, I have to go get ready. Dad’s probably still passed out and I don’t want to wake him. Would you tell him JY’s playing in the first game of the doubleheader, and I’ve got to be there? I’m going home to get my stuff. I’ll go straight to my own practice afterward.”

  Greta said, “You go do your thing! If it wasn’t for you and JY, I’d be wearing a dirty apron and serving greasy cheeseburgers past midnight.”

  Jalen smiled. It felt good to be appreciated. “Thanks, Greta.”

  He was heading toward the door and Greta was asking whether he could get any more cute, single Yankees players interested in calamari when his phone rang.

  It was Daniel.

  31

  JALEN SAID, “HEY.”

  “It’s hot sauce, amigo. Burning red-hot sauce.”

  Jalen skipped down the steps. “Aw, that stinks.”

  “My dad said I could go, yeah, but that if I did, then I’d have to babysit my sister tonight because if they have her all afternoon”—Daniel heaved a sigh—“then he’s gonna take my mom out to dinner tonight. ‘It’s your choice,’ he said. Yeah, some choice. Then I miss practice right when I’m on the coach’s radar. Thanks for nothing.”

  “Coach Allen might be okay.”

  “I’m not you, amigo,” Daniel said.

  “You’re a great reliever… and a pretty good fielder, too,” Jalen said, hurrying along.

  Daniel brightened. “I did help bring in the win Sunday.”

  Jalen was walking faster. “Hey, amigo, I gotta go get ready. I’ll meet you there tonight. Cat’s mom will drop me off after the game.”

  “Knock ’em dead, amigo.”

  Jalen dialed up Cat. “Hey, Cat. You heard about JY, right?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been waiting for your call,” she said. “Did you talk to Daniel?”

  “I did. He has to watch his sister.”

  “Oh, hot sauce,” Cat replied.

  “That’s what he said. Hey, Cat, I was thinking that since we’ve got four tickets, and there’s no sense wasting one, I could invite Gertzy. He’s a great kid, and I know your mom will love him.”

  “Sure,” Cat said. “You know my mom.”

  “And maybe we can pick him up?”

  “Sounds good. We’ll pick you up at eleven thirty,” she said. “You feeling good? Got the magic?”

  “Oh yeah. Magic is at DEFCON one.”

  “Ha-ha. That’s it,” Cat said. “See you soon.”

  Jalen hung up and slowed down. He dialed Gertzy, got voice mail, hung up, and texted him, asking if he wanted to go to the afternoon Yankees game and sit by the dugout as JY’s guests.

  Gertzy replied immediately.

  Does a bear poop in the woods?

  Jalen grinned.

  Pick you up. Where?

  When the address came, Jalen forwarded it to Cat, then walked through the trees to his house. A big yellow truck was backing out of the driveway, and his father was waving good-bye to the men inside.

  “Jalen,” he shouted. “You’re here!”

  “Dad, I thought you were sleeping.”

  “Who needs the sleep? Come with me!”

  Jalen followed his dad into the living room and was surprised to see a huge TV that filled the wall.

  “Is for you and me.” His father beamed with delight. “We gonna watch the Yankees, and the World Cup, and any movies you like.”

  “Wow, Dad. Awesome.” Jalen hugged his father tight.

  Jalen felt like it was the perfect moment to talk about his dream: his mom.

  He stood back to speak.

  But then Jalen’s dad said, “Well, is all because of you and JY. You make my dream come true.”

  His dad’s happiness stopped him.

  Jalen stammered, then said, “Yeah, but you’re the one with the lucky calamari, Dad.”

  Jalen’s dad clasped his shoulder and squeezed it several times.

  Jalen started talking about JY and the afternoon game.

  “You gonna make him win! Now I gotta get to the Sliver Liner and cook.”

  * * *

  Jalen set his equipment bag on the edge of the driveway as his dad pulled away in the van. He realized he’d been holding his breath. He’d missed the chance to talk about his mom. Again.

  Frustrated, he dug the new speed hitter out of his bag and began to swing.

  “What are you?” he asked himself with a grunt. “A total wimp?”

  Jalen envisioned the loaded bases, the two outs, and the full count in the final inning, with his team down by three. He swung and missed the timing. He reset the image and swung for the grand slam again. He missed again, then swung over and over. He worked himself into a furious sweat without once hearing the sound he was trying for.
Finally he bounced the stick off the gravel. It rolled at an angle, stopping at the grass. He kicked it and stubbed his toe on a rock.

  “Oh, farts!” he screamed to let off steam.

  Jalen danced around on one foot, losing his cap. He bent to pick it up and heard a vehicle pull into the driveway. The Range Rover’s window went down.

  “You good?” Cat asked.

  “Fine.” Jalen tossed his gear in back and got in. “Thanks for doing this, Mrs. H.”

  Cat’s mom backed out of the driveway and said, “JY needs his fans.”

  Cat turned around in her seat to look at him. “So, you ready for this?”

  “Does a bear p—eat in the woods?” Jalen said.

  Cat scowled at him and flashed her eyes at her mom. “Really? Bear pee?”

  “No, I said ‘eat.’ It just came out wrong. Sorry.”

  Cat waved a hand in the air. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I’m just jumpy.”

  “Why are you jumpy?” Jalen asked.

  “What if JY doesn’t get the contract that that slime ball Foxx promised he’d get?”

  “Language, Catrina!” Mrs. H sounded angry, but her next words made Jalen hide a smile. “ ‘Creep’ is less vulgar and just as good.”

  “How can you get paid if JY gets traded or released? And what does that do to the Silver Liner?”

  A chill gripped Jalen. He had big plans for that money: among other things, a car for when he could drive, and college. “But Foxx already went on record. He told the media that if JY batted a thousand in those games two weeks ago, he’d give him a new contract.”

  Cat faced the road. “Can you name anyone more likely to lie than Jeffrey Foxx?”

  They rode in silence for a bit before Jalen said, “Nope.”

  Cat turned around again so she could look him in the eyes. “That’s why I’m jumpy. If we ever needed you to be a baseball genius, now is the time.”

  “Oh,” he said. “Okay.”

  “Oh, c’mon! That didn’t sound like confidence.” Cat reminded him of Coach Allen. “Are you gonna be ready to do this?”